


Parallel eyes

by pauseplay



Category: Doctor Who, Hunger Games (2012), Supernatural, The Avengers (2012), Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-03-25
Updated: 2013-03-25
Packaged: 2017-12-06 12:11:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/735492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pauseplay/pseuds/pauseplay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A voice followed the static up. It echoed through the pine needles and made the barks of trees tremble. "Welcome to the annual Hunger Games! We have something special in store for the 100th game ... All your favorite characters from all your favorite parallel universes - all in one place! The participants are first to make their way through their forests, to the Cornucopia for weapons and supplies. May the odds be ever in your favor and remember: there may only be one survivor, er, winner."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Parallel eyes

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a crackfic! I want to write a fic for each of these fandoms, but I don't have the patience - so, I decided to throw them all together in one arena. It's a win-win situation, right? Let me know what you think! Ijustreallyhopeyoulikethis. I present you: THE ULTIMATE CROSSOVER!

"Son of a bitch," Dean groaned. His eyes had trouble focusing and his head was throbbing with a very dull, annoying pain. He tried to wade through the jumbled memories in his head. He and Sammy were ... what's the word? Hunting. Yes, they were hunting a witch when ... well, when something happened and now they were ... where the hell were they anyway?  
He finally regained his sharp eyesight, and ability to move it seemed, and rolled to his side. Sam was lying next to him. He was on his back, eyes closed and limbs sprawled all over the place. Blood was trickling from a wound on his forehead. His skin was looking too pale for Dean's liking.   
"Sammy," Dean wheezed and slapped his brother. He couldn't muster much strength, but it was enough. Sam's eyes began to twitch underneath his eyelids and he opened them shortly after. He coughed and kind of gurgled as response.   
Dean slapped him again. "What's the last thing you remember?"  
Sam frowned, his mind not yet up to speed. "Something about a witch in Kansas?"  
"Well," Dean scrambled up, "we're not in Kansas anymore, Dorothy." He casually dusted the dirt off his clothes, starting with his shirt and ending with his pants.   
Sam's first instinct was to roll his eyes at another movie-reference, but then he noticed they really weren't in Kansas anymore. His hands were resting on a damp collection of pine needles, moss and worms. They'd somehow gone from the inside of an appartment to the inside of a freakin' forest. Sam scrambled up too, albeit less graceful. He wiped the blood away from his forehead with the sleeve of his button-up.  
"And where the hell is Cas?" He was with them, what seemed like, seconds ago. Dean continued his rant, while searching his surroundings: "I swear to God, if this is another one of Gabriel's tricks I'm gonna shove his grace so far up his ass it will-"  
"Dean - look," Sam interrupted and pointed up at the clouds. The sky was overcast, but that wasn't the weird part. There was some kind of green-ish grid projected all over the clouds. The grid seemed to bend the sky in a globe form. Then there was a sound, closely resembling tv-static, and they both reached towards their weapons. Except that they weren't there. "Son of a bitch," Dean said a bit louder this time. Sam knew that when Dean started to repeat that certain phrase, he was really getting pissed off. A voice followed the static up. It echoed through the pine needles and made the barks of trees tremble. "Welcome to the annual Hunger Games! We have something special in store for the 100th game ... All your favorite characters from all your favorite parallel universes - all in one place! The participants are first to make their way through their forests, to the Cornucopia for weapons and supplies. May the odds be ever in your favor and remember: there may only be one survivor, er, winner."  
They were silent as the wind took away the vibrations of the voice. Dean looked over to Sam, smart retorts couldn't make it past his lips. He had no idea what was going on, but he didn't like one bit of it.   
Sam cleared his throat. "What the hell is a Cornucopia?" He tried to stay clear of the topic 'there may only be one winner', with Dean's strong sense of altruism and all.  
"No idea," Dean silently let him know he didn't want to talk about it either, "but there are weapons there. Let's go." Dean started walking in the direction he was facing.   
"Let's go? Dean, we're trapped in some kind of snow globe and you're about to listen to a voice that told you to go to something called a Cornucopia?" Sam hadn't moved an inch.  
Dean turned around when he noticed his brother wasn't following his lead. "Yeah, because - and I don't know if you haven't noticed this yet - we are unarmed. Besides, we're hunters. The others probably don't even know with what end of the knife to stab with."  
"We may be hunters, but we don't hunt people."   
Dean's face was an emotionless mask and Sam could see his dad's favorite expression staring back at him. He balled his hand up into a fist. "It's the same thing, but with a lot more blood," Dean said curtly before marching off.  
Sam followed, but it was only because he didn't want to stand in one place for too long.

There was nothing in this forest besides freaking pine trees and even they looked fake, somehow. There were no birds, no quirrels, no deer - no signs of life. Even sound was missing, like someone has pressed the mute button. The wind was blowing, but it didn't make a sound while weaving through the branches. Neither Dean nor Sam wanted to acknowledge it, but the absolute silence made their skin crawl. The only thing they could hear were their own footsteps and that was a feat difficult to accomplish with hunters as skilled as the Winchester brothers.

"The organization has really outdone outdone itself this year, hasn't it?" Caesar Flickerman leaned back in his chair, watching the main screen. His hair, lips and eyelids were a vibrant green, which matched the 'forest-theme' of this year.   
"That it has, my dear Caesar. For the people out there who don't know these two first contestant, let me introduce you to Dean and Sam Winchester," Stanley Tucci said and whirled his chair around to face the main screen. The lights in the studio dimmed and the image of the Winchester brothers in the forest faded to black. The word 'Supernatural' exploded in a sea of fire, the flames blazed before slowly shrinking towards the letters. The letter 'A' was replaced by some kind of pentagram. The video showed footage from the parallel universe. Their entire lives up until this point summarized in a shitty montage. Mom, Jess, dad, Bobby, Castiel - everything. The lights went on again after that and the host's turned back towards their audience.  
"I have to let you in on a secret, Stanley, I'm rooting for these guys," Caesar placed a manicured hand over his heart, "the way these two brothers are willing to die for each other, and have died for each other, is so heart breaking."  
"They do stand a chance, but only one can be crowned winner. Which one of the two will make it out alive, do you think?"  
Behind them appeared two lists: one of all the creatures Dean'd ever killed and one of all the creatures Sam'd ever killed. They were both long lists, but Dean was winning this round. The screen faded to the live stream from the forest, as Caesar Flickerman named his favorite brother

Sam and Dean still had no idea if they were going in the right direction, but the pine trees were growing closer together in this part of the forest. So close, in fact, that they couldn't see the skies overhead. Suddenly, Dean leaped behind a tree, pulling Sam along. Sam had no time to see what Dean had seen. "What?"  
Dean peeked from behind their hide-out and relaxed immediatly. He stepped past his brother and into a small clearing "Just great," he waved his hand to the center, "freaking statues in a freaking forest. Class-A job on the decoration!" Dean yelled the last part at the sky with the weird grid.

The statue looked out of place in the forest and would've been more fitting at one of the cemetaries they had visited to burn corpses. It was the statue of a young female angel. She had her hands in front of her face, hiding it from sight. Her shoulders were slumped and her wings folded tight against her flowing robe. It was hauntingly beautiful, the way it stood there in the middle of the round meadow, surrounded by moss and tufts of grass - it fit there without fitting in. Sam touched the wings. "It's just stone." They walked past the statue without as much as a second glance.

The forest grew even thicker around them, absorbing light and scarse sounds of their footfalls.   
"Man, I'm already sick of the smell of pine needles." Dean kicked a cone against a tree trunk.   
"And of all the depressed angel statues," Sam added, stuffing his large hand in his pockets.  
"I don't think one statue counts as 'all'."  
"No, there's another one up ahead." Sam had some trouble removing one hand from his pocket to point in the direction of the angel statue.  
Dean looked up and searched the forest. There, about twenty feet away stood another one. It was exactly the same as the previous one. "They should have a serious talk with their designer." Dean shook his head as they walked on. They armed themselves with pointy branches, just to be safe.

They kept encoutering the same angel statues, until they started to change poses. Their faces were exposed. At first they looked kind of pretty, with wide eyes and pouty lips, until Sam and Dean wandered deeped into the forest. Long, fang-like teeth stuck out from their gums, lips pulled tight over the teeth. Their hands were like werewolf claws, reaching out towards the brothers. "So, what, is this a werewolf-vampire-angel-hybrid?" Sam frowned, but Dean didn't comment.   
Every angel after that seemed to be closer to them and seemed to look more vicious. Dean finally made that comment after the fifth murderous statue. "I think this means we're going the right way." Although it was a joke, neither one of them was smiling.  
They didn't see the change that had taken place after they had passed the statue. The angel turned her head and stretched out her claws towards Sam, but the movement was too slow - so she simply clawed at air.

Sam and Dean soon entered another clearing with one single angel statue standing in the middle.   
"Did we already pass here?" Sam asked, looking around for familiar formations of rocks or trees.  
"No, different statue - you can see her fugly face." Dean jabbed the stick in the direction of the angel. They both looked away and Dean was about to say something else, when they saw movement from the corner of their eyes. "Did that-?"   
"Statue just move? Yeah, I think it did," Sam finished Dean's sentence. They looked at the statue. It had definitely come closer, clawing at them - teeth bared.   
"She's not alone," Dean scanned the opposite side of the meadow. There were at least ten more angel statues coming through the trees, those were also moving towards the brothers at a irregular pace. Sam and Dean started to back up, pointy stick in hand. Although wood probably wouldn't do much damage to stone. "How do we fight statues? They'll use this stick as toothpick after they've eaten us!" Dean said, panic level rising.  
"How are they doing this?" Sam kept looking at the angels and couldn't find a pattern in their movement. "I can't actually see them moving."  
This started the gears in Dean's mind. "They can't move while we can see them," he muttered, "Sam, they can only move when we're not looking at them."  
Sam picked up on Dean's theory quickly. "Synchronized blinking."  
The statues had already come halfway across the meadow.   
Sam and Dean took turns blinking, so that one person was always looking at the angels, and it kept them at bay. "Okay, now what?" Sam asked. The wind had also kicked it up a notch and was now beating against them - which made it hard not to break the patterns. Their eyes were getting teary.   
"Well, they're angels, right?"  
"Statues of angels, yes."  
"Maybe a sigil will work on them too." Dean had started to roll up his sleeve halfway through the sentence. He pointed his twig and the exposed flesh of his arm. "You'll have to do the blinking, while I do the drawing."  
Sam tried not to blink, while Dean started to carve a cirle in his left forearm. He's just finished with the single triagle on top of the circle, when Sam accidentaly blinked with two eyes at the same time. The angels moved even faster this time. "Fuck, I'm sorry." Sam then tried to blink with one eye at the same time, which worked out better than not blinking at all. Sam and Dean backed up, creating more space between them and the angels (in case plan A wouldn't work). Suddenly, Sam let out a harsh yell. A statue had appeared behind them and had sunk it's claws into Sam's shoulder. The other hand was clutching his windpipe. Dean's heart dropped and he quickly trained his eyes on the angel's face. "I can't draw without taking my eyes off of this one."   
"I can't look away from the other's," Sam wheezed. The angel's claws had just broken the skin, but the pressure was enough to cut off a part of his airsupply. He tried to jerk his shoulder away from the tight grasp, but the angel had hooked her claws around a bone. He couldn't move away without breaking it.   
"How far away are they?"  
"Dean..."  
"How far?" Dean had a stern expression on his face.   
"36 feet, maybe less."  
"Draw it. If it works, they'll be gone before they can reach us."  
Sam rolled up his sleeve, took two 'deep' breaths before looking away and started to carve the sigil frantically. He had tilted his head as far down as he could, which wasn't very far. Dean could hear the other angels approaching. There was a slight rustle of dry grass and a slight grating of stone. Sam had already carved half of the sigil. His face was contorted in pain and there was blood running from the fresh cuts. There was also blood staining his button-up a dark red and blood trailing down his throat.  
"Hurry, Sammy," Dean yelled. The rustling was getting closer and he had trouble overwriting the automatic blinking process. The cuts in his arm started to throb painfully. Sam's eyes flashed up to see how close the other angels were and a jolt rocked through his body. One of them was inches away from Dean. If he blinked now, Dean would be dead.

"Ah, here we have a classic enemy from the Doctor Who universe - the weeping angel," Caesar Flickerman told the audience, "the Doctor once called them 'the deadliest, most powerful, most malevolent life-form evolution has ever produced'. When the angels are being seen, they become quantum-locked - which means they occupy a single position in space and become stone. These angels have been manipulated to not be aware of the audience, otherwise we wouldn't have much of a show." A high-pitched laughted erupted from the crowd.   
"Nasty creatures," Stanley piped in, "but our contestants seem to know what they are doing. An Angel Banishing Sigil must be drawn in blood. It temporarily banishes angels from the location. The angel Castiel had once carved the sigil on his chest," a gasp from the audience, "he banished himself and the other angels in the room to give Sam and Dean a chance to go to the Green Room."  
"Both angels, but so vastly different. Let's see if their plan works. If it fails and a weeping angel gets a hold of one of the brothers - it would normally send it's prey back in time, so it can feed off their time energy..." Caesar trailed off mysteriously.  
Stanley then finished his sentece. "...but of course we had to manipulate that part a bit too. If an angel gets a hold of one of the brothers, well, then we would have to collect the brothers piece by piece."  
Another batch of ugly laughter.

"There's one right behind you now, Dean," Sam said, trying to gulp down his nerves. It was one thing that an angel had captured him, but another thing entirally that one was about to capture his brother.   
"I don't care - draw the sigil." Dean tried to keep his voice even, but the image of what one of those things could do to him made his voice tremble slightly.  
"No, if you die, then there's no one to look at the angel behind me." Sam started to feel around the edged of the wound. "I just need to finish the last 'z' at the bottom." His fingers traced the triangle at the top, then moved on to the right - to the first 'z', after that came the infinity symbol (it had a gap at the top) and then he finally found the unharmed skin where the third 'z' needed to be. He started to draw, while feeling how the letter was coming out with his forefinger.   
Sam lifted his bloodied hand, never taking his eyes off the angel behind Dean. It was like he was trying to push the thing away with his gaze. "Here goes nothing," he sighed and pressed the palm of his hand over the sigil.

The forest was it quiet, muted self. Sam kept his hand pressed firmly on the throbbing wound, gasping. Dean looked bewildered. He wanted to look at Sam, to comfort him somehow, but a low rumble was coming at them through the trees before he got the chance. The ground underneath them started to quake. There was a great force on it's way. The wind picked up. Then, from the underneath Sam's hand a white light grew in brightness. It leaked from within his wound. Sam and Dean kept looking at the angels until the light was so bright it blinded them. They closed their eyes at the same time. A wild, animalistic screeching erupted from the angels around them that forced Dean down to his knees. Sam did the same as soon as the angel had extracted her claws.   
The brothers opened their eyes tentitavely when the light had dimmed enough to not burn out their eyeballs. They sat up, looking at the other. Relief came out in the form of useless laughter.   
"I'll take that witch over these creeps any day." Dean let out his pent up air and leaned back on his hands.   
Sam ruffled up his hair and dropped the stick to the grass.

The angels had crumbled up into heaps of stone. They were safe. They were alive. For now.


End file.
